Be My Valentine?
by synchronysymphony
Summary: Cosette wants to plan the perfect date for Valentine's Day.


0.

Cosette is amazing at romance.

She can sweet-talk circles around anyone, give the best gifts, even make the perfect morning-after breakfast, for heaven's sake. Once, she managed to get a date with every single person at one of Courfeyrac's kickbacks. They all called her later, too. She's good, and she knows it.

Only, where's that prowess when she needs it?

It's going to be her first Valentine's Day with Eponine tomorrow. They've only been together for a few months, but she already knows it's real. Eponine is amazing, and their relationship is amazing, and everything is utterly, utterly, perfect. Cosette knows beyond a doubt that she's in love.

The only problem is, she's not sure how to show this to Eponine. Eponine is… tricky. She's not like Marius, who was predictably romantic, or Floréal, who was the complete opposite. Neither candy hearts nor weightlifting equipment are going to work on her. Cosette needs something sweet, but not too sweet, something meaningful, but not twee, something a little unusual that will make Eponine realize ( _finally_ ) just how loved she is. For the first time in her life, Cosette is completely stymied.

There's only one thing to do in a situation like this.

Cosette is blessed with very smart friends, most of whom seem to be in loving, stable relationships, and who are incredibly motivated to help everyone who comes across their path. They're a good source of information, and hilarious to boot, so things should be easy. Cosette will ask them for help, they'll suggest an amazing plan, she'll give Eponine the best valentine of her life, case closed. It'll be perfect.

Now, she just has to ask them.

1\. Courfeyrac and Combeferre

Cosette finds Combeferre in the library. It's one of his favorite places, so it's not much of a struggle to locate him, happily situated at his favorite desk by the window, reading what looks like a table of train schedules from 1925. Predictably, Courfeyrac is there as well– perfect. Two at one shot.

She tiptoes up to him (no one will ever be able to convince her that libraries aren't sacred spaces of silence and serenity) and plops herself down on the other side of the desk.

"Hey, friends," she says.

"Hi Cosette!" Courfeyrac unwraps his arms from Combeferre's shoulder to wave cheerfully. "How are you? What are you doing here?"

"Well, um…"

"Are you here about the sex tape thing?"

"The what?"

"The scandal," says Combeferre calmly, laying his book aside. Cosette raises an eyebrow.

"Scandal?"

"Enjolras didn't tell you?"

"Uh– no."

"Then, never mind. It's nothing."

It doesn't sound like nothing. Cosette makes a mental note to do some research here as soon as she gets a chance, maybe by asking Enjolras, or better, Jehan– Enjolras gets so flustered when people try to talk about sex with him.

In the meantime, though, she has other concerns. She puts on her best smile, pearly-whites a'gleaming, and bats her eyelashes at Courfeyrac. "So. Valentine's Day."

"Valentine's Day!" agrees Courfeyrac at full volume. Some of the other library patrons turn around to glare at him. Cosette gives them a little half-hearted wave.

"Yeah. What are you two doing?"

"We might be a little _tied up_ ," says Courfeyrac.

Cosette sighs. "I know. But what are you going to _do_ – oh."

"Oh _yeah_ , baby."

"I can't do that," Cosette tells him, shaking her head. "I mean, come on. Eponine and I have only slept together twice. What am I going to do, go up to her with a pair of handcuffs and slap 'em on her? Not feasible."

"Hmm, yes, I see your point." Combeferre scratches his chin, where there's beginning to be a bit of stubble. He needs to leave the library more often so he can shave. "Well, it doesn't have to be like that, you know. You could light some candles, play some music…"

"But I don't want it to just be a sex thing," Cosette says. Courfeyrac gapes at her.

"What? No sex?"

"That's not what I said."

"Well, the most important thing is intimacy," says Combeferre. "There are many different ways of making that happen."

Cosette waits for him to go on, but he doesn't, so finally, she shrugs. "Like what?"

"Ah."

Combeferre and Courfeyrac look at each other, eyebrows raised. "Well," says Courfeyrac finally.

"Go ask Jehan," finishes Combeferre. "You want romance? They're your person."

"They're a cap-R Romantic," Cosette protests, but even as she does so, she knows Combeferre has a point. Jehan is the best out of all of them for ambience. If anyone will know what to do, it's them. She stands up, reaching across the table to ruffle Courfeyrac's hair. "Thanks, you two. You've been sort of helpful."

"We live to please," says Courfeyrac. "Oh, and by the way, don't try to contact us at all tomorrow, because we're going to be–"

"Tied up, I know." Cosette sticks her tongue out at them. "Enjoy. Safe, sane, and consensual and all that. Good times."

"Good luck," calls Combeferre as she makes her way to the door. She just waves back at him. She needs it.

2\. Jehan and Montparnasse

"Why are we in a graveyard?"

"Ambience."

"But is that really the right ambience? Isn't Valentine's Day supposed to be more… I don't know, happy?"

"Saint Valentine was the patron saint of the plague," says Jehan blissfully. They pause to take a drag on their dubiously-homemade cigarette, only continuing after nearly a minute of silence. "Therefore, he must have had a connection to death. Love and death– ah, yes! How intertwined they truly are."

Cosette sneaks a glance at Montparnasse to see what he thinks of all of this, but he's preoccupied in leaning up against a grave stone in just the right way so as not to wrinkle his pants. How he makes it through any type of date with Jehan is anyone's guess.

"I don't really want to bring death to Eponine, though," she says, seeing that no one else is going to make a comment.

Jehan startles languidly, pulled out of a probably-morbid daydream. "Pardon?"

"I need something cute here. Not like… violence."

"Violence can be cute," drawls Montparnasse. "Go out on the streets. Punch some fascists. Enact vigilante justice. Perfect date."

"That's not a perfect date."

"You're telling me you don't want to punch fascists?"

"Of course I do. But that's unrelated."

"Not really."

"Okay." Cosette decides she needs to get back on topic. She turns to Jehan. "Prouvy, help. What are you two doing tomorrow?"

Jehan smiles dreamily and blows a ring of smoke in her face. "Tomorrow?"

"Yeah. Valentine's."

"Ah." Jehan smiles even wider. Their teeth are very sharp. "We're going to punch some fascists."

3\. Enjolras and Grantaire

Cosette goes back to the library, stopping only briefly to wash the graveyard dirt stains off her dress. She's on a mission here, and no amount of Lyft fees are going to stop her. She's been here enough that it's a matter of minutes to find the oh-so-tiny section on immigration law and pounce.

"Enjolras!"

"Holy shit!"

Books go flying. Cosette has to duck to avoid being hit in the head by a wayward tome. In terms of maintaining a respectfully quiet atmosphere in the library, this maybe wasn't the best bet, because Enjolras is anything but quiet, especially when he's startled. But oh well. She has him now.

"Sorry to scare you," she says as she bends down to help him gather up what seems to be an office-supplies store worth of paper. "Here, was this from your notebook? This drawing of Feuilly dressed up as Justice?"

Enjolras blushes and snatches back the paper. "Grantaire drew that."

"Sure he did."

"What did I draw?" Grantaire emerges from behind the stacks with a cardboard cup in each hand. "Oh– hi, Cosette. If I'd known you were coming, I would have gotten you some coffee, too. But that's okay. You can have Enjolras's."

"Sure," says Enjolras magnanimously. "If I can have yours."

"It's okay," says Cosette. She's already had two espressos today, and any more will make her jittery. "Don't worry, guys. But actually, I did have a question."

Enjolras perks up. Out of all their friends, he's the most enthusiastic about helping people. If there's a chance for him to get involved and make some situation, any situation, better, he's going to jump to take it. And most likely, Grantaire will be grumbling and following at his heels.

"I can answer questions!" he says. "What is it?"

"Valentine's," says Cosette. She thinks it's best to cut to the chase, here. "What are you guys going to do tomorrow?"

"Oh." Enjolras sets his newly-acquired cup of coffee down on the shelf beside him. He's probably going to forget about it later. "Cosette, are you really going to celebrate Valentine's Day?"

Oh, no. Cosette should have remembered. "No," she says, but it's too late.

"Valentine's Day is simply a capitalist ploy for exploitation! The media pumps it up as a holiday in order to satisfy the public's need for bread and overpriced roses, but in reality, it remains as nothing more than an antiquated cultural relic, evocative of excessive marketing and cheap mass-market greed. I don't like Valentine's Day, Cosette! I don't want to celebrate it!"

"Shh, shh. I know." Grantaire wraps his arms around his boyfriend's waist and rests a cheek on top of his tousled blond head. "It's okay, ange. We don't have to celebrate."

"Don't condescend to me," says Enjolras, but he sounds a bit calmer already. Grantaire's hugs have that property. Cosette laughs at him.

"Good kitty."

"What?" Enjolras puffs up with indignation. "Don't make me sound so sweet. I'm a lion!"

"Is that your fursona?" asks Grantaire with a straight face. Enjolras looks horrified.

"My _what_?"

Ordinarily, Cosette would be inclined to stay and chat, but she doesn't have any time to waste. She needs to figure out this whole Valentine's situation immediately. So she hugs Grantaire and Enjolras as a unit and ruffles Enjolras's hair.

"Remember your coffee. And maybe try to get some sleep at some point."

"Sleep? What's that?" Enjolras picks up his coffee and takes a long drink, never breaking eye contact. "I haven't slept since I was dead."

At this point, Cosette isn't even sure if he's joking. He's got too much of a poker face sometimes. She waves kindly, though, and blows a kiss at both of them as she goes to leave.

"Good luck with everything. I'll see you for brunch on Saturday."

"Bye, Cosette. Love you."

Honestly, Enjolras is the sappiest out of their whole group. Cosette doesn't think he's ever ended a conversation without saying that. Oh, well. It's cute. She can't help but smile as she leaves the library. Even if her friends are unhelpful assholes, she's still lucky to have them.

4\. Joly, Bossuet, and Musichetta

Joly and Cosette have a long-standing habit of invading each other's houses when needed. Sometimes, it's to write an impromptu musical. Other times, it's to stave off an anxiety attack. Whatever it is, though, it usually involves glitter. Cosette isn't exactly sure how it started, but she knows beyond any doubt that it's nice to have each other's back.

Cosette arrives at the J-B-M household right around dinnertime. It's not as much of an accident as it should be, because Bossuet's cooking is phenomenal, and Cosette is tired of dining hall food. She helps Joly set up the table, carefully wiping down each utensil, and helps Musichetta bring all the sauces to the table. It's a sweet, cozy scene. No one does domesticity like these three.

Everyone eats quietly for all of one minute, enjoying the dish, until Joly starts explaining a meme that he'd thought of while working that day. Musichetta counters with a suggestion of her own, and from there, all is chaos. Cosette couldn't change the topic if she tried.

(Not that she wants to. This type of hilarity is wonderful.)

After dinner, though, Cosette isn't about to put off her quest any more. She takes a towel and starts drying the dishes Musichetta hands her. "So," she says. "You three have a wonderful relationship."

"Hell yeah we do," says Musichetta good-naturedly.

Cosette nods. "You do. So, that's why I wanted to ask you…"

"Is this about the sex tape?" cuts in Joly, looking worried.

Cosette groans. Why are her friends like this? "No. That's not it. I was just wondering, what are you going to do to celebrate tomorrow?"

"Oh." Musichetta looks at her boyfriends. "Yeah, what are we going to do?"

"Huh."

"Hadn't really thought about it, honestly," says Bossuet. "I mean, every day with you is a miracle. Valentine's isn't anything special."

"I feel exactly the same," says Musichetta, smiling. Joly pats Cosette on the shoulder.

"We've been together for so long that we don't really do the whole fancy-schmansy thing anymore. We're just happy to have each other."

"Okay." Cosette is happy for them, indisputably so, but their comfortably sappy partnership isn't applicable to her situation at all. "Well, help a girl out, would you? Give me some love advice. What should I do to celebrate with Eponine?"

"Take her to a hardware store," says Bossuet. Cosette just looks at him.

"Why?"

"It's romantic."

"How about a beer garden?" asks Joly. "I've always wanted to try one of those. You could take me, too. Just leave me in a potted plant. Or a pot plant."

"I don't think they have those there."

"Hey, you never know."

"What about a horse race?" asks Musichetta. "I've always wanted to go to one of those."

"Not me," says Joly darkly. "You know, ever since I found out that we're not the ones racing the horses, I've sworn them off entirely."

Musichetta stops washing the dishes, stock-still. "Wait. We're _not_ the ones racing the horses?"

Bossuet pats Cosette on the head. It would be a sweeter gesture if he weren't still holding his partially-wet dishrag, but he doesn't seem to realize this part. "It'll be okay," he says. "After all, she'll be happy to be with you, right?"

"That's the hope."

"No _hope_ about it!" Joly points at her with a pair of chopsticks. "It's a surety. A certainty. You gotta have _faith_. Come on, sing with me now!"

"Sing what?"

"The song in your heart."

The song in Cosette's heart turns out to involve a lot of melisma. She and Joly create a beautiful duet, and Musichetta and Bossuet choreograph a dance to it, and then of course someone has to film it and put it on the group chat so everyone can see what they're missing out on, and by the time Cosette gets around to remembering her original purpose in coming here, it's almost 9 PM. Dear, oh dear. What's she going to do?

She puts her coat on and hugs her friends goodbye, happily accepting the tupperware full of leftovers that Bossuet pushes into her hands. Free food is like the holy grail for college students, even ones with meal swipes.

"Thanks for dinner," she says. "And for trying to help me out."

Musichetta slaps her on the back. "I know you'll be fine. She loves you. Just be yourself."

It's impossible to explain to these three why she's afraid that won't be enough, so she just waves and leaves, not any more enlightened than she'd been before. Time is running out, but she's not going to be beaten yet. It's time to pull out the big guns.

5\. Bahorel and Feuilly

"Hey, Cosette. You got tickets?"

Cosette groans. She knows exactly what's coming. "Tickets to what, Bahorel?"

"To the _gun_ show!"

Feuilly and Bahorel high-five. It sounds like two concrete blocks slapping together. "Yeah, boy! You told 'er!"

Cosette takes this opportunity to swipe Bahorel's beer and take a long drink, which she immediately regrets doing as soon as she tastes it.

"What the hell, dude. Is this _licorice_?"

"Yeah, man. It's homemade craft beer."

"We're in a bar. Why are you drinking homemade craft beer? And… wait. Whose home did you make this in?"

"Grantaire's. He doesn't know yet, though, so keep it on the DL, will ya?"

Cosette isn't sure how it's possible for anyone to be unaware of an entire beer-making operation in their own home, but it's true that anything goes when it comes to Grantaire. So she sets aside her questions with the frankly disgusting brew and waves the bartender over to order a nice inoffensive vodka-cranberry for herself.

Once she's gotten her drink, and politely turned down the overly-flirtatious bartender, she turns back to Bahorel and Feuilly. "Listen, guys," she says. "I need some help."

"Huh." Bahorel looks at Feuilly. "Have you asked Enjolras?"

"Yeah, man" says Feuilly. "Did I tell you about the time I had to break into Marius's work building?"

Cosette rolls her eyes. "Yes, Feuilly. We all know about the time you had to break into Marius's work building."

"And see how well that turned out?"

"I already asked Enjolras," Cosette tells him. "He was really unhelpful."

"No shit?"

"Yeah. All he did was talk about how Valentine's Day is a commercial holiday made to take advantage of people."

"Oh, _Valentine's Day_." Feuilly grins a toothy grin at her. "Have you asked Jehan and Montparnasse?"

"They told me to beat up some fascists."

"What's wrong with that?"

"It's like an everyday thing. Not a romantic thing."

"Gotcha. Hmm." Feuilly snaps his fingers. "Joly, Bossuet, and Musichetta!"

"Nope. They're not celebrating."

"Courfeyrac and Combeferre?"

"They're, um. Celebrating too much."

"I guess that leaves us." Bahorel slings an arm around Feuilly's shoulders, smirking. "You know, you should've come to us first. We're the best couple there is."

Feuilly gives him a high five. "Damn right."

"Okay, well." Somehow Cosette isn't very encouraged, though she has to admit, she doesn't have a lot of options here. "What are you doing, then? How are you going to celebrate?"

"We're going to the gym," says Feuilly, grinning.

"Okay? And?"

"We're gonna beat the snot out of each other. What'd you think we were going to do?"

"I mean. Um. That's great, but… I don't want to beat the snot out of Eponine."

"Why not?"

"Why n— oh my god. You guys are useless."

"Hey, I'm not." Bahorel wiggles his eyebrows and makes an incredibly crass gesture. "Don't worry, Cosette. Feuilly's not going to think I'm useless, if you know what I mean."

"I know what you mean," says Feuilly. He echoes the gesture. "Cosette, do you know what he means?"

"Yes, Feuilly. I know what he means."

"Good. Cuz he means he's gonna—"

"Don't wanna know the specifics, thanks."

"Hey, cheer up." Feuilly pats her on the shoulder. "You'll think of something. You always do."

Cosette sighs. "Yeah. Maybe."

"No, I mean it. Just be yourself. Don't ask us; we're us. Just do your best, and you'll be fine."

"He's so smart," says Bahorel. "Damn, Feuilly. I just wanna take you home and…"

Cosette decides to make a precipitate exit.

6\. Cosette and Eponine

Cosette can't stop pacing. Right now, Eponine is in her bathroom, getting touched up for what she thinks is going to be an amazing date… only it won't be, because Cosette couldn't get her shit together to make it happen. It's going to be boring, it's going to be bad, Eponine is going to leave and be annoyed, everything will be awful—

"Hey, you ready to go?"

Cosette jumps to attention. There's Eponine, looking like a goddess, smiling quizzically at the stress-sweat on Cosette's neck. Cosette swallows hard. "Hi, babe," she squeaks. "Yeah, I'm… yes. Let's go."

Eponine raises an eyebrow, but she doesn't push it. Instead, she just hands Cosette her purse and waits for her to put on her heels before she takes her hand and leads her out the door. She's so calm, probably because she's expecting a wonderful time, but boy howdy, is she going to be disappointed. Cosette groans to herself. Why is she like this?

They decide to Uber to the restaurant (Cosette had made reservations for that, at least), just to save on parking. They're headed to the pier, and goodness knows it's probably going to be packed tonight. Sure enough, the restaurant is buzzing, servers rushing back and forth, and excited couples shouting happily at each other across the tables just to be heard. Cosette goes up to the front desk.

"Hi, I have a reservation for 6:00?"

"Name?"

"Cosette Fauchelevent."

"Great. This way, please."

Eponine and Cosette make their way to their table and sit down, smiling at each other across the arrangement of driftwood and dried seaweed. The atmosphere is already getting to Cosette; she feels a bit better about taking Eponine here, and she's excited. After all, here she is with the most beautiful and perfect girl in the world, so why shouldn't she enjoy herself for now?

And she does. Dinner is lovely, and they're so happy to be together that they sit for almost half an hour after dessert, just holding hands across the table and talking. Finally, the servers chase them out, needing the table for another reservation, but they just smile, leave a 40% tip, and leave without a fuss. It has to be hard working at a popular date spot on Valentine's Day.

Cosette takes Eponine down to the beach after that. The sun has set, and it's a little cold, but fortunately, Cosette has prepared by bringing a blanket with her, and they huddle up together on the sand, wrapped up in cotton— and each other's arms. The stars are beginning to come out, and they show each other their favorite constellations as the waves lap on the sand nearby.

"…And I know it's cliche, but I love the Big Dipper," says Eponine. "It can always show us the way, and it's always right where we need it to be."

Cosette kisses her. "I'm right where I need to be, right here with you."

"Aww, Cosette." Eponine sounds like she's trying to be stoic, but her voice shows just how affected she is. "You know, that was a very romantic thing to say."

"I try."

They lapse into silence for a second, each wrapped up in their own thoughts. But then, Cosette knows she has to say something, because no matter how much fun they're having, it's nothing compared to what Eponine deserves.

"I'm sorry," she says.

Eponine stirs against her side. "What the fuck for?"

"I wanted to plan a really beautiful night for you," Cosette says, words coming out in a rush. "I asked all of our friends, but none of them were helpful. Combeferre and Courfeyrac are probably getting kinky with each other right now, and Enjolras and Grantaire are debating about capitalism, and Jehan and Montparnasse are off punching fascists, and Joly, Bossuet, and Musichetta are being their disgusting sappy selves, and Bahorel and Feuilly are at the gym punching each other, and I just… I'm sorry, Eponine. I really wanted to plan something good for you. But I couldn't think of anything good enough."

"But Cosette." Eponine's voice has a smile in it. Cosette turns and looks at her.

"What?"

"This _is_ good."

"But it's just a normal date— it's not anything special—"

Eponine begins to count off on her fingers. "You went to all of our friends asking for advice, you booked reservations at my favorite restaurant, you called the Uber, you took me to the beach because you know I love it, and now you're here. It's everything I could ask for. I'm here with you, my best friend and girlfriend, and there's nowhere else I'd rather be. Yeah, it's a "normal" date, but it's special because I'm with you. Believe me, sweetheart, it's perfect."

"You're perfect," Cosette manages to say, because she thinks she might cry. Eponine kisses her.

"I love you, Cosette."

"I love you too."

"I know."

And that more than anything makes Cosette's night. Finally, _finally_ , Eponine feels loved like she needs, like she deserves, and it's because of Cosette. She thinks her heart is going to burst from pure, unadulterated happiness. Too content to speak, she leans her head up against Eponine's shoulder, smiling when Eponine turns and kisses her forehead. Is it humanly possible to be this happy? She's going to remember this day forever.

So, it's official. This is the best Valentine's Day ever.


End file.
